


all our moments are vibrant

by entrechat



Series: lined with kohl [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, Eyeliner, Eyeliner as a Love Language, Fluff, Gen, M/M, My Love Letter to Makeup, Platonic Relationships, Polyamory, Relationship Advice, Secret Relationship, Suna Rintarou-centric, gratuitous use of nicknames, pronoun game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrechat/pseuds/entrechat
Summary: In which Suna Rintarou's skillful ability at doing eyeliner and his tendency to give just the right advice helps him navigate through Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kita Shinsuke, and Miya Atsumu's blooming relationship. Eyeliner becomes a (platonic) love language. Baring your soul becomes easier when you're being looked at under the scope of an artist.(Rintarou couldn’t quite explain the reason he was drawn towards the intricacies of makeup and eyeliner. He never found himself in repetition on purpose, but there was something about the simple motion to produce elegant shapes that accentuate the curve of an eye, the drapes of a crease, the soft or hard angles of a face. Rintarou reveled in eyeliner. He also reveled in trying out new things on new canvases. Canvases of different faces.)
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Suna Rintarou, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Suna Rintarou
Series: lined with kohl [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975813
Comments: 20
Kudos: 207





	1. Sakusa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverMoonT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoonT/gifts).



> Welcome to my open love letter to makeup!
> 
> This fic was incredibly self indulgent because I love eyeliner a lot and appreciate it in many ways. If you check out my twitter in the coming days I will be posting pictures of my recreations of the looks I describe in this fic.
> 
> THANK YOU TO T (SilverMoonT on ao3) FOR THIS FIC IDEA! She came up with the original idea and graciously allowed me to write it so this is her gift. I hope you enjoy this four part series of SakuAtsuKita and SunaOsa (which is vaguely hinted at but it should be pretty obvious) As always Kudos and Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Dyl-annotation: I CAN PICTURE DEEP FRIED SUNA W RED LASER EYES AND HIS VOICE BASS BOOSTED

It always starts the same.

Lips part slightly, breathing calm and involuntary action. The body is simply acting on its own natural instincts as focus shifts. A hand is raised slowly, calmly, with practiced motions. There is no baited breath, there is no tensing of muscles. Everything moves with the ease that comes with seasoned understanding of the process. Ink splashes on canvas as a brush sweeps across skin. A thin line to start, dragging across the predetermined base. Followed with a confident flick at the end, a simple upturn of the fingers. Then the wrist twists to drag the line back, making a connection diagonally until the brush meets the center. Filling in the empty expanse with color becomes quick, taking no longer than three bold strokes. The brush is put aside, replaced with a thin cotton swab. Soft and delicate compared to the rest of the process, with the tip barely swiping against unmarked skin, an edge becomes perfectly clean. A slow sigh gets released at the finished product, tongue poking out to swipe along dry lips.

Then repeat.

Line. Flick. Connect. Fill. Clean.

That was the pattern Rintarou followed; a routine of sorts for something as simple as lining your eyes with different colored makeup. Liquid, gel, felt. It was a way to reach serenity that rivaled the oceans during low tide. A quiet stillness that established peace of mind.

Rintarou couldn’t quite explain the reason he was drawn towards the intricacies of makeup and eyeliner. He never found himself in repetition on purpose, but there was something about the simple motion to produce elegant shapes that accentuate the curve of an eye, the drapes of a crease, the soft or hard angles of a face. Rintarou reveled in eyeliner. He also reveled in trying out new things on new canvases. Canvases of different faces.

_“Suna-kun, could you help me with something?”_

Kiyoomi had approached him that morning, hands held behind his back. He didn’t look uncomfortable, only nonplussed. It wasn’t as if Rintarou and Kiyoomi were strangers, they had a few things in common. One glaringly so. However, they rarely ever spent time with the other alone. Kiyoomi’s brows were drawn together and his teeth were pulling at the inside of his lip out of habit alone. An agreement found the two of them in Rintarou’s apartment, hovering around each other in the bathroom.

Kiyoomi had been sat down on a stool. While it would’ve been an awkward distance to maneuver around, Kiyoomi’s height had put Rintarou just a head taller. A nitrile glove on one hand, a brush in the other; the atmosphere was quiet, light.

“You’re sure I can do whatever I want?” Rintarou questioned for the third time that evening.

A nod from Kiyoomi. “It’s obvious you know more about this than I do. That’s why I asked your help in the first place.”

Rintarou reached out with the gloved hand, lightly holding onto Kiyoomi’s chin. He turned Kiyoomi’s head to both sides, eyes unblinking in steady focus. There was a whole different process beyond the physical placement of ink to canvas. Rintarou was analytical on the court and it played very well to being analytical about a person’s face. Where the lines of the face meet, how sharp the angles are, the crease of the eyelid. It all mattered.

In Rintarou’s eyes, Kiyoomi’s face was quite elegant. A mix of round and straight, like an arrow drawn taught in a bow. Each line felt deliberately placed, sketched out by the careful hand of an artist. His lips also fault weathered, pink pulled tight-lipped and unsettled. There was a distinct furrow in between his eyebrows, scrunching the skin and bleeding onto the bridge of his nose. The two distinct moles sitting atop his eyebrow like a signature brought out the softer side of his expression. Rintarou found every single swoop and dip of bone and muscle extremely purposeful, even radiant. He was unsure how an outside eye would view Kiyoomi, but he thought Kiyoomi was a perfect canvas. Beyond his general facial structure came the shape of his eyes. Large, unapplied due to the hooded, uninterested state Kiyoomi’s eyelids fell into. They were gorgeously round and pulled up at the ends. They made for a fun place to play.

Pulling back, Rintarou’s mouth lifted up on one side as he dipped the brush into the pot of liquid black ink on the sink. “Close your eyes,” Rintarou directed, angling Kiyoomi’s head down. “Don’t flutter your eyes like that,” Rintarou chided, running a gloved thumb over Kiyoomi’s brow bone.

Kiyoomi complied, relaxing after a moment. He settled a bit deeper into the stool to give himself as much comfort as possible given the situation. Not that there was much more comfort to achieve with the given state of their positions. Rintarou hovered over Kiyoomi, slowly entering his personal bubble with a slow exhale. The process begins with his lips parting, focus running through his palm to his fingertips in electric rods. The second Rintarou’s brush made contact with smooth porcelain skin, the entire world melted away into a haze. There was only the ink, brush, and skin. Until there was Kiyoomi’s pout deepening into something more akin to a grimace.

“What is it?” Rintarou mumbled, squinting as he kept a steady hand.

“Nothing.”

“I can see you frowning, there’s something on your mind. Just say it.”

With a slow, shuddering sigh, Kiyoomi relented. “I didn’t just want your help with makeup, admittedly. The thing is about this event, Atsumu convinced me,” a pause as Rintarou flicked up his wrist, “Atsumu and I are going public about our relationship tonight.”

Rintarou leaned back, expression screwed into astonishment. When the white’s of Kiyoomi’s eyes just barely peeked out Rintarou managed out, “Don’t open your eyes!”

Kiyoomi’s eyes immediately sealed shut. The atmosphere felt unruly, the electricity from Rintarou’s fingertips shanking off like a missed receive and crackling into the air. Rintarou had to blink to keep himself level from his minor panic about the lines of wet ink smearing. His tongue swiped across his sardonic bottom lip before continuing his work. Taking an endeavor into slightly lengthening the baseline of the wing.

“Okay,” Rintarou began, expression fairly bored. How had Miya Atsumu of all people kept their relationship unknown? With _everyone._ Rintarou was unsure if his brother even knew, considering how bad Osamu was with keeping secrets. Rintarou hazarded a guess that Atsumu must’ve cared about Kiyoomi _so much_ that he kept silent for Kiyoomi’s sake.

“I’m just unsure of how to handle it. It was Atsumu’s idea to do it now, considering it’s been about six months. How did you deal with everything after you went public?”

Rintarou’s eyes flicked down to Kiyoomi’s hand in his lap, where he was running the pad of one thumb over the slope of each nail. “Well it was a bit different for me, because we weren’t _both_ professional athletes.” Connecting line running all the way to the center of the lid. “That being said it did feel a little bit like it was the only thing that mattered after the announcement.”

“That’s my biggest concern. I don’t want my life to suddenly revolve around the basis of my relationship as opposed to my actual athletic skill and how I behave on the court. I’m a volleyball player, not a character in a shoujo manga.”

The level of exasperation was something Rintarou connected to strongly. He gave himself a moment to think as he filled in the wing, tongue pressing against the tip of his canine.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“That would be helpful,” Kiyoomi almost whispered.

“For the first week, you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with it.”

“But-”

Rintarou tapped a gloved finger against Kiyoomi’s lips, effectively shushing him. “Just one week. After that you can deflect onto Atsumu or switch the topic to volleyball and nobody will think twice. Trust me on this one.”

“Just a week?” Kiyoomi mumbled against Rintarou’s finger, jaw clenching and unclenching.

“Seven days and you may not even get questions for all of them. Just speak the truth about it when asked and all that constant pressure will fade away faster than you think.” Rintarou grinned as he pulled his wrist up, dragging the brush from the tip of the wing into Kiyoomi’s crease, a thin stripe of onyx pressed into the curve like a seal. “If my idiot of a boyfriend gets sought out to be barraged with questions then yours will get the brunt end of it.”

Kiyoomi hummed thoughtfully, hands finally going still in his lap apart from the minor twitch of his knuckles. Rintarou leant back to admire his handiwork of one eye and gave an appreciative nod before repeating the same steps on the other eye. His lip had gone slightly cracked from the excessive licks across plump skin coupled with his direct focus. Rintarou was about halfway through the connecting line when his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, Atsumu?” Rintarou questioned with a slight pull on his lips, even if Kiyoomi couldn’t see his light smile.

The rosy blush that immediately colored Kiyoomi’s ears was enough of a tell. His naturally pale complexion already flushing. “Yes, Atsumu.”

“How’d that happen?” Fill in the gap of skin between lines.

“It sounds so incredibly stupid when I think about it now. You _know_ how he pursues me constantly. I never really could tell if he was just doing it to annoy me or if he was genuine. Six months ago he pulled his sleeves over his hands, held onto my face, told me how he felt, and kissed me while I was still wearing a mask.”

“You’re telling me Atsumu did that? Miya Atsumu, Japan’s most notable holder of foot-in-mouth disease, won you over?”

“I told you how it sounded. Do not repeat that. I’d rather leave everyone in the dark about that particular story.”

“My lips are sealed.” Drag the darkness into the crease.

“That means everyone. Your boyfriend is not exempt,” Kiyoomi insisted, blindly reaching out to push a finger into Rintarou’s chest. Missing slightly and poking at his ribcage instead.

Rintarou squirmed away from the jab with a barely contained laugh. “I’m serious, I won’t say anything.” Setting the brush down, Rintarou exchanged it with a cotton swab, raising it to his mouth before stopping halfway there, his tongue hanging out limply. He quickly snapped his mouth shut with a grimace and instead lightly ran it under a thin stream of water from the sink. He leant forward with a slow inhale, replacing his hand on Kiyoomi’s jaw, holding it steady so he could drag the tip of the cotton along the bottom line of each wing to straighten the edges. “Don’t open your eyes yet, it needs to set so you don’t smear it.”

Kiyoomi nodded once, subconsciously pushing his thumb into one of his wrists to massage it. His teeth also rolled over his bottom lip, weathering it further. Rintarou spotted the actions instantly. Rintarou hoisted himself onto the bathroom counter, lifting one leg onto the counter. He slouched forward to rest his chin atop his knee and moved his arms to wrap around the leg. “When we decided to go public it was actually pretty early on in our relationship,” Rintarou began, very little inflection in his tone.

Kiyoomi gave pause.

Teeth released lip.

Hand left wrist.

“It was less of a choice and more out of necessity. We just wanted to get ahead of the rumors and he was worried about my credibility as an athlete more than anything. I understand where you’re coming from. While I wasn’t really worried about actually doing it, I just didn’t want to make it a big deal. I knew it meant more to him than it did to me, but come the day before we were actually going to do it I sort of caved in on myself. He just sat me down and talked to me about it, assured me that people weren’t going to focus on this forever.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

“I mean I love him and of course I wanted everyone to know we were together, but I wanted them to know so I could have a weight off my shoulders not because I wanted to flaunt it. Listening to him assure me was all it took.” There was a deep set fondness in Rintarou’s eyes, lips settled in a barely there smile, only noticeable if you were looking for it. The sort of look you don’t find yourself making on purpose. Something that paints across your features more sweetly than eyeliner. It emphasizes all your best parts in a way that can be blinding. “If you want my advice, I’d say talk to Atsumu tonight before the event and just tell him how you’re feeling. We both know how brash he can be, but I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Kiyoomi’s lips turned up in his own version of a smile, higher on the right than on the left, a small dimple just barely peeking out. “Thank you. I don’t think you realize how helpful you’ve been.”

Rintarou rolled his eyes with a smirk, nudging Kiyoomi’s knee with his toe. “I’m just telling it like it is, Sakusa. Now take a look at my masterpiece.”

With a subtle groan, Kiyoomi stood up, leaning towards the mirror and turning his head back and forth to inspect the makeup lining his eyes. All sharp lines and a deliberate curve, mimicking the bow and arrow of Kiyoomi’s face. The color also mused with the darkness of Kiyoomi’s hair and irises. Rintarou’s smugness was apparent, clear as day, as he watched Kiyoomi deliberate. He was particularly proud of the way it seemed to lengthen Kiyoomi’s eyes.

“D’ya like it?” Rintarou said all too quickly.

“You have a really good eye,” Kiyoomi praised lightly. He had closed one eye and squinted slightly to get a full view. He pulled back and gave Rintarou a genuine smile with a nod.

“Alright, now go talk to ‘Tsumu before we all have to go to this stupid press release,” Rintarou offered with a wave of his hand, shooing Kiyoomi out.

“You know, you’re incredibly lucky,” Kiyoomi spoke softly while he was pulling on his coat, slipping his mask over his mouth.

“Mm?” Rintarou hummed, opening the door for Kiyoomi with a tilt of his head. “We’re the same breed of lucky if you really think about it.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Rintarou guided Kiyoomi out the door, returning to his bathroom to fix up his hair. He found himself laughing to himself at the thought of Atsumu and Kiyoomi together. The contrast there was somehow completely right in a way Rintarou hadn’t thought would work. Reflecting back onto it, they always did seem to be somehow attached at the hip during any V-League gatherings. Initially it had seemed odd but their bickering was welcome soon after. Rintarou couldn’t help the second laugh that bubbled out of his throat.

His mind made no effort to stop itself from drifting back to his own public confession. It was quite possibly the most daunting day of his life, not because he was nervous, but because he assumed his life would change the axis on which it turned on. If he didn’t have that sobering presence beside him throughout Rintarou was sure he would’ve flown off the handle, in public, for the first time in his life. Lucky.

A ping from his phone alerted him from his thoughts and he tore his gaze from the mirror. A message banner popped up that made him snort lightly.

_‘just closin up. i’ll wait for u here.’_  
_‘be quick aho’_  
_‘love you’_

Rintarou pulled his finger through a few strands of his fringe, flattening down the feisty pieces of hair and swiped his tongue over his drying lips. Luck didn’t even begin to cover it.


	2. Kita

Line. Flick. Connect. Fill. Clean.

Beyond that were the nuances of eyeliner type, new shapes, and how the sharpness played with the face and eyes. Rintarou couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly when he figured out how to differentiate the different levels and difficulties of the makeup. It came to him as easily as blocking did. A technique you honed and involved adapting to each individual. Some were easier to pinpoint than others, but the hardest challenges were the most fun to take on. Figuring out how to accentuate the eyes that are set against the most unique features. How to pick the color for different skin types and hair and eye colors.

There’s a common misconception when it comes to doing your own makeup. The monotony of it gets boring. There’s more of a notion to get everything done as fast as possible just to get it over with. Knowing your own face makes it harder to expand on. Rintarou, on the other hand, found it extremely enjoyable to figure out new ways to compliment his own features with different sweeps of art plastered against skin. Even if that meant starting over four times. He just wished white looked good on him. Pulling a makeup wipe across his eyes irritated the skin just as much as it did last time, ridding his eyelids of white ink and replacing it with red splotches. Rintarou narrowed his eyes in the mirror and left the bathroom with disdain lacing his face.

Just as Rintarou opened the freezer to pull out an ice pop, a knock stopped his hand from reaching in. He groaned inwardly, pushing the freezer drawer shut with his hip and ventured towards his front door. All hopes of indulging in sweet frozen treats slipped out of his grasp. He just held onto his desire that the unexpected visitor would leave him alone qui-

“Kita-san?”

Standing in his doorway, hands resting in the pockets of his coat, was the spitting image of his ex-volleyball captain from high school. Save for the uncharacteristic downturn of his lips.

“Uh, come in. What are you doing here?” Rintarou asked, stepping out of the way for Shinsuke to enter.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Shinsuke spoke clearly, removing his shoes and coat gingerly. “I apologize for not callin’ beforehand, but I had just seen Osamu in the shop and he mentioned you’d be home at this time. I was hopin’ to talk.”

“You don’t have to call, I was just surprised to see you. How was Osamu?” Rintarou questioned over his shoulder, moving back into the kitchen to boil water for tea.

“He looked tired, somethin’ tells me he’s overworkin’ himself.” Shinsuke hummed as he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth, watching Rintarou reach for the kettle. “I’ll skip out on the tea this time, thank you.”

Rintarou seized his motions, turning around and leaning his back on the counter. He spotted the grimace on Shinsuke’s expression once more, his lips pursing as he tried to dissect the cause. Along with outlining Shinsuke’s negative aura, Rintarou fixated on the color of his skin, and an excited tremor crawled up his spine, pushing a question out of his throat. “Since you’re here, do you mind if I try something on you while we talk?” Rintarou’s head cocked minutely. He gave a quick gesture to his eyes to clear up the message.

Shinsuke seemed to relax, even if it was the slightest droop to his shoulders. An affirmative nod was all Rintarou needed. He pushed off the counter and waved Shinsuke to follow him into the bathroom. Shinsuke sat against the edge of the counter, back straight as ever while Rintarou rummaged through a makeup bag. Excitement seemed to crackle off Rintarou like popping candy. A triumphant smirk replaced Rintarou’s placid expression when he held up a white eyeliner pencil like it was the V-League Championship trophy. Shinsuke couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Are ya doin’ my makeup?” Shinsuke wondered aloud.

“Mhm, I’ve been trying to do white but my skin just doesn’t look good with it. _Yours_ , however, may be the perfect tone. I’m not losin’ this opportunity.”

Shinsuke settled against the counter and shut his eyes lightly, relenting his vulnerability over to Rintarou. Rintarou uncapped the eyeliner pencil and ran the wax tip along his thumb to make sure the pigment applied. With a satisfied hum Rintarou eased his hand onto Shinsuke’s face. He slipped his palm onto Shinsuke’s cheek, his ear splitting the difference between Rintarou’s middle and forefinger. Shinsuke’s skin was cool, probably due to the chill of the outdoors he was just exposed to, but his complexion remained unchanged.

Rintarou would describe Shinsuke’s physicality as gentle. Of course, he had that aura that commanded attention and it made everyone push themselves to match up, but he was also kind in all his features. High, sturdy cheekbones. Two peaks outlining his face with effortless grace. Beautifully complimented by the round apples of his cheeks, supplying the blanket-like comfort atop the structure. A sharp nose bridge, tip curving just so. If left for interpretation, Shinsuke could be considered ethereal. He always made himself out to be mundane, what with his under appreciated work and understated way of adorning himself. That nose was a statement of elegance. Beyond that were Shinsuke’s eyes. His eyes may be the most striking feature of his face. Rintarou had a silly crush on those eyes his first year. Wide and doe-like, shining like two headlights stretching into the aching abyss. Whenever Shinsuke looked at someone it felt as though he was looking directly into their deepest parts. Rintarou’s thumb reached towards the outside corner of his right eye and lightly tugged the skin taut. He’d always wanted to bring out the brightness in Shinsuke’s eyes.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Rintarou prompted, pressing the blunt tip of the pencil to Shinsuke’s eyelid, dragging it across in a fairly thin line, moving back to build up the color intensity and thickness.

Rintarou could practically feel Shinsuke’s breath hitch in his chest. Two hands of restraint physically tugging on his oxygen intake and strangling it. It wasn’t difficult to sense the trepidation in his response. “Well, ya know how Atsumu and Sakusa are together?”

Rintarou hummed in response, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth while he pulled the line out with a flick, skin still pulled. “Atsumu never shuts up about it.”

Shinsuke breathed out a laugh, keeping his body steady so not to disturb Rintarou while he dragged the line back to the center of his lid. “Well, Atsumu and I were talkin’ a while ago and he had been tellin’ me about how he liked me in high school.”

“Everyone liked you in high school, Kita-san,” Rintarou jeered. He was desperately trying to distract himself from the feeling that this conversation was leading down a path that meant dangerous things. Things like Atsumu never losing his crush on Shinsuke, which Rintarou knew was _much_ more than just a crush. Things like Shinsuke returning those feelings. Things like Kiyoomi being left out of the picture on a whim.

“So I’ve been told. However, I did find myself also havin’ feelings for Atsumu — or _do_. I do have feelings for Atsumu.”

Rintarou pulled back after finishing the wing, arching a brow in concern as Shinsuke slowly opened his eyes. “Kita-san, I don’t mean to be rude, but you just told me you know Sakusa and him are dating.”

Shinsuke cocked his head before his eyes widened a fraction. “Wait, that’s not what I mean. Let me finish.” Rintarou nodded once, starting to apply the white coal to Shinsuke’s other eye. “He apparently told all this to Sakusa and he had mentioned how he had admired me when he met me at Spring Nationals. Then Atsumu got to talkin’ about me for ages and then they invited me over for tea.”

“Was Sakusa jealous or somethin’?” A slow gentle filling in of the gap between lines.

“Quite the opposite actually. We had continued to spend some time together since then. Yesterday they both asked me if I’d like to date ‘em. The both of ‘em.”

Rintarou almost dropped the pencil in his hand. He slowly pulled back, making sure he hadn’t made a mistake on Shinsuke’s eye and then proceeded to gape. _That_ was not at all what he was expecting. He didn’t even want to imagine the conversations Atsumu and Kiyoomi must’ve had to discuss that. He especially did not want to imagine the debacle that asking out Shinsuke must’ve been.

“Close yer mouth, Suna. You’ll get a sore throat breathin’ like that,” Shinsuke chided, tapping the bottom of Rintarou’s chin until he pressed his lips together.

“Sorry, you just surprised me. I thought something was wrong when you first came in, this seems like a perfectly okay situation. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Watching Shinsuke’s lips part with a sentence about to bleed off of his tongue was like everything had become slow motion and turned to static. Shinsuke paused, mouth closed in contemplation before it opened again. A ballerina rising on the box of a pointe shoe, motion shifting through the entire foot, coming down onto the flat of the shank, then pulling back up. Every movement of Shinsuke’s face was thought out, fluid, and unknowingly held half of the world’s beauty. Rintarou understood why _both_ Atsumu and Kiyoomi took an interest in him.

“I told them I’d like to think about it. I was hopin’ you could help my figure it out.”

“I’m hardly qualified to give advice on your love life, Kita-san. I barely have one.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like I didn’t see you lookin’ absolutely smitten back in high school. You two hardly danced around each other. It was no big surprise when I heard you had gotten together. You always seem to know what ya want, Suna.”

“Well then I have to ask you, what do _you_ want?” Rintarou gave a placating smile, hardly allowing it to reach his eyes as he reached over Shinsuke to retrieve a buffing brush, experimentally running his fingers over the bristles.

Shinsuke closed his eyes once more, letting himself fall into subtle concentration. Rintarou absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind Shinsuke’s ear and began pressing the brush in small circles against the edge of the eyeliner. Effectively softening all the edges to match Shinsuke’s facial structure. The lull in conversation while Shinsuke thought was productive for Rintarou’s steady hand to move uninterrupted. He also became hyper-aware of keeping his mouth shut and opting to breathe through his nose instead, sharp puffs coming out while he buffed out lines.

“I wanna be happy. That much I’m sure. I just don’t know if it’s _right_ to enter into this. ‘Course I know how I feel ‘bout Atsumu, which isn’t to say I don’t like Sakusa, I just know him much less. I could develop the same exact feelings— I already am. I wanna do this properly if I do. There’s no easy way to ‘pproach it. Sometimes I think it’s a pity thing, but then again Atsumu told me Sakusa isn’t very open ‘bout his feelings. Atsumu wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t sure, right?”

“Kita-san, you’re rambling.”

A flash of sakura came and went across those high cheekbones. “‘m sorry,” Shinsuke uttered just under his breath while Rintarou set down the brush and reached out to grip Shinsuke’s elbows.

“This is a big deal, I get it. There are stakes to every relationship. This one more so, hm?” A nod from Shinsuke as he opened his eyes to meet Rintarou’s gaze. “We both know Atsumu. Hell, he was head over heels for you. If he’s serious about makin’ it work between you two _and_ Sakusa, he means it. Sakusa, well Sakusa is a whole other story. I’ve noticed he is not very emotionally forthwith, but somethin’ tells me that if he didn’t want you imposing on a relationship he would say it. He probably means it just as much as Atsumu.”

“Yer a hundred percent sure?”

“I wouldn’t lead you into fire, Kita-san. I think they’d both make you happy, and I’d really like to see you enjoy life like that. Plus I’ve seen Sakusa’s cleaning habits and you two would get on about something as simple as cleaning brands. Just go for it.”

Shinsuke’s face brightened after that. A slow unfurling smile sweeping across his lip as he seemed to exhale a long held breath. Rintarou mirrored the expression with rare delight. “Thank you, Suna.” Rintarou shrugged, but just as he released Shinsuke’s arms an understated tightness enveloped his torso and Rintarou leaned into it, responding to the hug in kind.

“I was just talking, really. Nothing special about my advice. Now look at yourself, I think I did really nicely.”

Shinsuke turned around after slipping away from Rintarou and leaned towards the mirror. The drags of white laid on thick across his lash line and buffed out into a soft wing made it out to look like clouds had been snatched out of the atmosphere and tenderly draped across Shinsuke’s eyes. His slightly pink undertones and wide eyes made the white stand out against his skin with a much more intense hue than it had on Rintarou’s.

“It’s beautiful, Suna.” Shinsuke leant a bit closer, then pulled back to grin at Rintarou unabashedly. “Ya know what, I’ll have that tea now.”

Rintarou gave a curt nod and led Shinsuke into the kitchen where he could actually follow through with boiling the water this time. “You gonna tell them tonight?”

“Mm, I think so.”

“Good. You look irresistible right now,” Rintarou said behind a warm bubble of laughter.

“Thanks to you. Give yerself more credit, Suna. Yer advice is particularly understandable, ‘cause you speak from the heart.”

Rintarou was silent for a moment, moving through the kitchen to prepare the tea. “Yeah, well you know who to blame for that.”

Shinsuke responded with a knowing grin as he took the mug offered to him, bringing the rim to his mouth and blowing away the steam. The wisps disappeared into the air along with any trepidation left inside Shinsuke about his relationship’s future.

“Thank him for me. You two have done well for each other.”

“Just like you’ll do for Sakusa and Atsumu.”

While Rintarou brought his own mug to his lips, tipping it to let warmth spread across his mouth and throat he considered the sentiment. Speaking from the heart was only skimming the surface.


	3. Atsumu

Shaping expressions with a flood of colors can always supply an eruption of emotion.

It’s naive to assume all makeup can be is surface level. There are far deeper reasons to the application of colors, textures, shapes, and designs. What starts as a method of pulling focus towards favorable features of the face or disguising blemishes shifts into something far more personal. The experience and relationship between art and canvas influences things beyond superficiality. There is substance. Every line, every planned out placement, every single thought about coverage brings out not only beauty, but _emotion._ The practicality of the art form sinks into the skin and courses through the body to become raw confidence. _That_ is the truth behind all makeup. It invokes positivity in all forms. The sensuality the subject can feel, or the unadulterated knowledge that they are gorgeous. It only increases tenfold when becoming pampered by another. Having the process done _to_ you instead of by you serves to create volumes of self appreciation. It shows that another person sees you for your truest self, and the real beauty that lies deeper. Being the one applying makeup to another also supports the confidence. Confidence in ability and being able to bring forth that joy from another person. The art of makeup is much more than theory or practicality. It’s an art form for a reason.

Every blank slate can be transformed into something completely new. Shiny details and easy additions. Every blank slate is unique yet asks for the same treatment. Make something you’re proud of is all that matters. No matter how difficult, how frustrating, or confusing.

“Suna! Are ya listenin’ to me?”

Frustrating was putting it lightly.

“Yes, Atsumu. I’m completely thrilled by what you’re saying. Please do continue,” Rintarou droned, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

“Yer just jealous aren’t ya?” Atsumu boasted, hopping onto the bathroom counter and blocking Rintarou’s view of the mirror when he opened his eyes.

Rintarou groaned, making sure to be audible as he pushed Atsumu out of the way so he could finish applying his mascara. “Why on Earth would I be jealous of _you?”_ The venom dripping off his tongue was only playful in nature, but it was harsh enough to make Atsumu recoil away from the mirror and lean his back against the blank wall.

“‘Cause I got _two_ boyfriends and you only got the one. Plus, both of mine are better than yers,” Atsumu spoke through a sickly grin, eyes pulled up into crescent moons.

“Can’t you talk to Osamu about this? Why do you have to bother me every chance you get?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, sorting through the makeup bag sitting in his lap rather noisily. Rintarou chanced a flick of his eyes over to Atsumu before pulling the mascara wand over his eyelashes in deliberate motions. Atsumu continued to push his fingers through copious tubes and brushes, ignoring the compact that he forced out with the intrusion of his hands. Rintarou tried his best to ignore him, he really did, not allowing his eyes to wander over to the nuisance and forcing himself to focus on the application to his eyelashes in order to not accidentally stab himself in the eye. The key word was tried.

“Do you have to make that much noise?” Rintarou sighed, tilting his head in Atsumu’s direction.

“Am I botherin’ ya?” Atsumu spoke with an ever present grin, eyes still focusing on where he was rifling through makeup.

“You could’ve gotten ready with anyone else. You were the one going on and on about your two boyfriends. I really think — if you break something you’re payin’ for it — maybe you just wanted to peacock about it.” Rintarou closed the mascara tube almost mechanically, replacing it with a tube of vaseline and swiping a generous layer onto his lips.

“Well, since I’m already here,” Atsumu fluttered his eyes innocently, before seeming to finally find what he was looking for. “Do me up like ya did for Omi-kun and Shin,” he declared, handing Rintarou a thin, transparent, mostly full vile.

Rintarou looked down at the container, turning it in his hands slowly and taking care in examining Atsumu’s choice of eyeliner. It was unconventional to say the least, and bold which was very much an Atsumu thing. Through the clear glass was a terribly glittery gold gel liner. Rintarou rolled the tube between his palms, warming up the contents before shaking it slightly. He considered it, opening the tube gingerly and staring at the thin brush, coated with gold. Of course Atsumu would pick this. Rintarou nodded slowly, and stared up at Atsumu with a sharp eye.

“If you complain at all I’m leaving you out to dry,” Rintarou spoke through a half-baked grin, words coming out bittersweet.

Rintarou knew that Atsumu had a face that filled up a room. Whether that was with faux cockiness, painful embarrassment, or just pure joy was a toss up. There was no denying that Atsumu had a presence, though. He seemed to make it a mission to somehow always be the center of attention. It didn’t matter if the attention was positive or negative, as long as all eyes were on him. From a personal standpoint, Rintarou thought Atsumu’s personality ruined his conventional attractiveness. To his face, Rintarou would call Atsumu plain. Maybe even bluntly tell him he was ugly on a bad day. Objectively, Atsumu had a nice face. Unfortunately. He was a rugged sort of handsome that Osamu was not — even if they were twins. All clean cut edges and shiny facets like that of a diamond. Atsumu was of the cleaner, brighter variety. Face shining for the crowds of admirers. Something many people strive to have. Atsumu had grown into a hard set jaw, taking shape after his high school juvenility had finally faded away. The slope of his nose had always been particularly defined, bridging up to clean point, the distinct point of the diamond of his face. His eyes always had that brightness. The glint of a light reflecting off a plane to create luster. It was due to Atsumu’s drive. If Rintarou ever had anything nice to say about Atsumu, it would be how much he admired Atsumu’s passion and constant push to be the best no matter what happens. His fire was what made up for his garish personality. It was also a statement to make that not everybody particularly liked diamonds. Rintarou was one of those people.

When Atsumu promptly shut his eyes, Rintarou recoated the brush with gold and began applying a heavy line to the lash line. It was a pinker gold than Atsumu’s hair, but not so pink that it would make him look red. Rintarou wondered why he hadn’t used it much before.

Atsumu had begun squirming, making it very difficult for Rintarou to keep a steady hand. The slight flinch from Atsumu almost threw off the entire base line. “Quit moving, you idiot,” Rintarou hissed, placing his hand on the side of Atsumu’s head to stop him from shifting.

“Sorry, sorry,” Atsumu said behind a snort.

“God, if you’re gonna be annoying then just say it instead of waiting for me to prompt you. Talk about your perfect boyfriends.”

Atsumu’s smile brightened tenfold. It almost felt like his teeth had started to shimmer with the intensity of the grin. Even though Atsumu’s eyes were still closed, the stellar smile still traveled up far enough to crinkle the corners. Rintarou shook his head with that same sense of fondness as he moved the wing out in a small, straight line.

“God, I just love ‘em so much. Ya know I never thought Omi-kun would _actually_ like me back. I was just actin’ on a whim back then. Then with Shin, damn. When he said he wanted to think ‘bout it, I was so worried he was gonna come back the next day and say no. But then he said yes, and now I got two great guys and I really do love ‘em.”

Rintarou restrained from rolling his eyes, simply moving to start lining the other eye. “Did you know they both talked to me about you the days I did their eyeliner?”

A high pitched whine filled the bathroom, and only after a few seconds did Rintarou realize it had come from Atsumu. “What’d they say? It wasn’t bad or anythin’, right?”

“Would you calm down,” Rintarou droned, lightly flicking Atsumu on the center of his forehead to stop his movement again. “Obviously it wasn’t bad if they’re both dating you. I just gave them both some advice about dealing with your sorry ass.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding. You’re so insecure sometimes, I really don’t know how they do it.” Rintarou leaned back, tongue lolling out over his vaseline slick lips. “In the case of Kita-san though, I really do think I’m responsible for him saying yes. You should be kissin’ my feet.”

Atsumu huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Yer such an evil mastermind it’s unsettlin’. I’m tellin’ ‘Samu to get ya in check.”

“What, like I’d listen to him? Like he’d listen to _you?_ ” Rintarou laughed, purposefully adding a sinister twinge while he fixed the length of the wing on his right eye to match the left. He fanned his hand in front of Atsumu’s face, accelerating the drying process of the gel and lightly tapping his pinky against it to confirm the tackiness. “Alright, look up.”

Atsumu’s eyes opened then, and Rintarou watched his pupils dilate to the light hitting them. His irises floated up to look at the ceiling, but then his chin followed, tipping his head up as well. Rintarou groaned and simply reached out and pulled Atsumu’s head down back to level. “Just your eyes, _aho_.”

“Don’t pull on my hair,” Atsumu hissed, reaching up and rubbing at the part of his scalp that Rintarou had tugged at.

“Then don’t give me a reason to,” Rintarou shot back, sticking his tongue out then gesturing up until Atsumu’s eyes flicked towards the ceiling, head staying in place this time.

Rintarou dipped the brush back into the tube of glitter, thoroughly coating the bristles. Rintarou placed his free hand just under Atsumu’s eye, gently pulling down the lid. He then ran the brush along Atsumu’s lower lash line, effectively making his eyes not only look bigger, but brighter. Rintarou slowly let go of Atsumu’s skin, then applied another layer on top to make it more opaque.

“They’re both so perfect,” Atsumu started again, unmistakable wistfulness lining his voice. “It just works for us, ‘cause Omi-kun and Shin and I just balance each other out s’well. I don’t know how I did it either, Suna. The other day I came home from practice and was just ‘bout ready to drop off on the couch ‘cause Bokkun had begged me to practice with him for longer. Which meant I was tossin’ for an extra two hours. But then Omi-omi had dragged me off to the bath ’n’ washed me. Then when I was layin’ in bed, Shin just gave me a shoulder rub without me even needin’ to ask. They just do shit like that all the time. Gods, I love ‘em to death. They take care of me, I take care of ‘em. D’ya think if I asked ‘em to marry me they’d both say yes?”

By the time Atsumu had finished spewing out words Rintarou had finished the other eye. He pulled back, closing the eyeliner vial and slipped it into his makeup bag. He caught the hopeful look in Atsumu’s eyes, smiling at the way he spoke about his partners. “I think I can tell just how much they love you. I also know that all three of you would not stay in the relationship if you hadn’t thought it’d be for the long run. Just trust your gut, ‘Tsumu.”

“I see why they went t’ya for advice now.”

Rintarou playfully bat at Atsumu’s arm, reaching out and tapping his finger against the liner under his eyes and smiling as his finger came away clean. “I’m only telling you what I think. There’s nothing special about it. The only thing you need to remember is don’t rush it for the sake of getting it done.”

“Never said I was gonna do it _now_.”

“Just sayin’, Atsumu. Take your time with it, idiot.”

Atsumu hopped off the counter and fixed his cufflinks, following Rintarou out of the bathroom towards the genkan where they both pulled on their suit jackets and dress shoes. Atsumu offered Rintarou an arm once he locked the front door, leading him down the stairs. “Yer just sayin’ that cause you don’t want me to get engaged before ya.”

Rintarou grinned lightly, eyes blinking slowly in thought. “Sure, sure,” he mumbled. “Stop trying to compete with me.”

“Aw, Suna. Don’t be mad we beat ya three to one last game. I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” Rintarou shoved at Atsumu, laughing as he stumbled but tugged Rintarou with him. “Someone’s a sore loser. C’mon, put on a smile won’t ya? We gotta look pretty for the cameras and yer not gonna have me as a buffer once I find Omi.”

“I’ll be fine. You have no faith in me.”

“I have tons of faith in ya,” Atsumu drawled, smirking at Rintarou with fervor.

Rintarou hummed in acknowledgment letting his mind drift to the cool metal pressing against his sternum under his suit.


	4. Osamu

There is— a moment; an inexplicable pocket of time where you look in the mirror and feel the complete satisfaction of doing everything _right._ Not everyone has this moment, and even if you do, it doesn’t happen every time. The moment is elusive. It can also feel different for everyone. Or it will come when you least expect it. It is simple enough to think that perfection is what gives you this euphoric sense, but that would be narrow minded. Obtaining perfection and doing something right are two very different things. They are not mutually exclusive, but you can have one without the other. It’s just a moment. Two seconds out of your life when oxygen fills your lungs and your brain sends off signals to the rest of your body just like it does normally. Your heart pumps blood the same, but you feel _something._ That is the moment.

The moment does not come riding along the coattails of perfection for Rintarou.

Perfection.

A rather preconceived notion that life requires zero flaws.

Rintarou screws perfection to the sticking place and settles for feeling _right._

He moves through the steps of applying eyeliner to one eye methodically. He breathes slowly and keeps his core engaged as he leans into the mirror, one eye closed and the other open. Doing eyeliner on yourself would always be more difficult due to the distorted vision you’re forced to take on. Every new movement Rintarou opens his eye to make sure he isn’t being misinformed by his eyesight. Smooth red cream ink sweeps across his lash line in a smooth straight line. Straight lines always did better for Rintarou’s eyes than angled or curved. Atsumu once told him it made his eyes look even sleepier, but then again Atsumu didn’t know anything.

“Are ya ready t’go, Rin?” The voice swoops into the bathroom along with Rintarou’s heart.

“Almost, gimme a minute,” Rintarou calls back, finishing the final line on one eye and cleaning up the rough edges.

Rintarou opens one eye to examine the full look and catches a figure standing in the doorway through the mirror. A doe-eyed grin accompanied by crossed arms leans against the frame to stare at Rintarou and it only makes Rintarou snort. Rintarou ignores the man momentarily, too fixated on starting the other eye, but his hand stutters when the man speaks.

“Lemme try th’other one.”

Rintarou turns around finally, making eye contact with a raised eyebrow. “You’re gonna mess it up.”

“I watch ya do it enough t’know how. C’mon, I wanna try!”

Rintarou relents, rolling his eyes. He holds out his hand with the eyeliner brush, offering the tool. When the instrument leaves his hand he lets himself sigh in preparation. “Don’t fool around. I’m serious, if you mess up I’m not going out, ‘Samu.”

Osamu grins broadly, hoisting himself onto the bathroom counter and spreading his legs. Rintarou takes the opening and stands between Osamu’s knees. Rintarou shoots a pointed look when Osamu’s ankles lock around Rintarou’s waist.

“Close yer eyes, Rintarou,” Osamu breathes out. He tilts Rintarou’s chin up slightly, thumb brushing over the corner of Rintarou’s mouth.

Rintarou obeys, shutting his eyes slowly and making sure not to crinkle his eyelids by closing too harshly. He can almost picture the way Osamu’s tongue pokes out of his mouth and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. Rintarou stifles an amused hum when he feels the brush finally make eye contact with his bare eye. He can feel the slight shake that Osamu’s hands have that Rintarou’s do not. They’re steady in a way that Rintarou isn’t afraid a line will come out of place, but Rintarou’s hands are much more accustomed to the level of unflappability one needs.

“Don’t make the line too thick, match the other one,” Rintarou reminds.

“Mhm, I know, Rin Rin.”

Rintarou groans outwardly at the nickname and blindly pinches at Osamu’s thigh. “And make sure to do it straight across instead of curving up,” Rintarou adds.

Osamu promptly places his hand over Rintarou’s mouth to shut him up. Rintarou’s eyes open into tiny slits as he peers up at Osamu. There is some mixture of smugness and disapproval in his face. Rintarou pokes his tongue out to lick Osamu’s palm but it does little to deter his hand away.

“I have a twin, you know better than that,” Osamu states matter-of-factly. Rintarou tries to speak but only muffled sounds that vaguely resemble someone getting strangled makes it past Osamu’s hand. “If I take my hand off will ya stop botherin’ me about what to do and just trust me?”

With a nod Osamu pries his hand away. “Just promise me you’re going to be careful.”

 _“Just promise me you’re going to be careful,”_ Osamu mimics, replicating Rintarou’s city accent. After Rintarou gives him a heated stare Osamu raises his hands in surrender. “I promise, baby.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rintarou punctuates by leaning up to plant a kiss on Osamu’s smile.

“Love ya too,” Osamu whispers against Rintarou’s lips.

Once Rintarou shuts his eyes again, Osamu gets to work. He follows Rintarou’s instructions to keep the line thin and straight. His free hand is tender against Rintarou’s face, fingers brushing feather-light along his hairline. Rintarou wants to press into the touch but holds back so as not to disturb Osamu. He simply revels in the warmth. The warmth from the ghosting of fingertips and the slow huffs of air from Osamu’s nose. There’s a palpable level of focus radiating from the sliver of space between them. Rintarou feels its presence in the uncertain way Osamu moves his hand. It’s obvious how unsure he is but he doesn’t act recklessly, instead making up for his inexperience by taking extreme care in his movements. It’s barely reassuring but comforting nonetheless. Rintarou gets slightly distracted from the sensation against his eye by Osamu slowly moving his hand from Rintarou’s hairline to hold onto the back of his head securely. Rintarou zeroes in on the feeling of Osamu’s pinky softly rubbing circles against his nape. When Rintarou finally settles back into reality he becomes aware of the fact that there is nothing happening to his eye. Rintarou cautiously peeks at Osamu, barely opening one eye to find a blurry image of Osamu just staring at him.

Rintarou makes a soft sound to get Osamu’s attention and Osamu blinks a few times and chuckles. He dips his head down, smile only pulling up on half his mouth in the way it does when he feels especially bashful. Rintarou fully opens the one eye, peering up at Osamu with a slight tilt to his head. Osamu glances back and promptly bursts into laughter at the way Rintarou looks while trying to keep only one eye open.

“What are you laughing at? ‘Samu I’m gonna punch you if you don’t shut up.”

Osamu settles, pinching at his nose and sighing from the exertion. “Sorry, sorry. Ya just look so…” Osamu trails off to cover his mouth so he doesn’t laugh again. “You can open yer other eye, _aho_.”

Rintarou cautiously opens his other eye, leaning his elbows on Osamu’s thighs. “Why were you starin’?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play dumb. I caught you red-handed.” Rintarou leans up and knocks his forehead against Osamu’s chin playfully. “Tell me.”

“I was just admirin’ the view. Can ya blame me?”

Rintarou frowns, flushing at the earnest tone. “I hate when you just say things like.”

Osamu shrugs, setting down the eyeliner brush and cupping Rintarou’s face. His eyes scream adoration and Rintarou slouches. “Ya can’t stop me, Rin. You signed up for shameless flirtin’ when ya started datin’ me.”

“And here I thought I avoided it when I picked you over Atsumu.”

Osamu blanches and lightly digs his heel into Rintarou’s lower back. “That ain’t funny, you shithead.”

“You deserve it,” Rintarou shoots back, smirking in victory.

“Now yer just askin’ for it,” Osamu growls. “I was starin’ at ya ‘cause I always think ya look the prettiest when yer relaxed like this. Usually when we’re out ya get this crinkle in yer brow — yup that’s the one,” Osamu snorts, pressing one of his thumbs into the center of Rintarou’s eyebrows, smoothing out the concentration residing there. “Makes ya look all focused, which is cute, but I like it better without that.”

“‘Samu-”

“Shh, I’m talkin’ now.” Osamu leans down and plants a gentle kiss against the bridge of Rintarou’s nose. “You also get a twitch in yer nose. It pulls up the slightest bit,” Osamu pauses, hooking his finger under Rintarou’s nose and pushing it up. Rintarou’s eyes ask him ‘ _are you serious?’_ and Osamu can only wink. “Makes ya look like a rabbit.”

“Are you finished yet?” Rintarou sighs into the question, his hands settling on Osamu’s waist where his fingers can gently slip under the hem of his shirt and roll over Osamu’s hip bones.

“Not a chance.” Osamu tugs Rintarou slightly closer with his legs, one hand sliding down to rest against the juncture where Rintarou’s neck and shoulder meet. “Dunno if this is just ‘cause I’m a catch or what, but your lips curl up more than they do when we’re out in public. You know how I feel ‘bout yer smile, so it’s nice to see.” Osamu grins, tilting Rintarou’s head up and meeting him halfway to kiss him lightly. Just a press of lips, Osamu’s smile spreads as Rintarou relents and smiles into the kiss along with him. It’s difficult for Rintarou to even pretend to be frustrated with Osamu. Rintarou’s grin turns toothy and forces him to break the kiss, Osamu moves his head to press their forehead together. “There it is.”

“Are you aware of how annoying you are?” Rintarou questions, lightly digging his forefinger into the soft skin above Osamu’s hip.

“Don’t act like ya don’t love it,” Osamu teases.

“Yeah, whatever. Did you finish my eyeliner?” Rintarou finally asks, leaning to the side to peer in the mirror.

“About that,” Osamu starts, but is cut off by Rintarou sputtering into laughter. “I may have also been starin’ ‘cause I didn’t know how t’fix that.”

Rintarou balks at his reflection first, laughter rumbling his shoulders. “How did you mess up this badly?”

Compared to the near perfect lines on Rintarou’s left eye, his right eye makes it look like he was recently punched in the face. The line starts fine, but Rintarou can pinpoint the exact moment Osamu wobbled then tried to remedy it by filling in the line a bit thicker. Rintarou leans in to find the cream liner spanning up half his eyelid. There also happens to be one too many wings flicking out from the outside corner of his eye. Rintarou’s tongue runs along the tip of his canine as he comes down from his bout of laughter. The awkward angles of each line also serve to offset the shape of Rintarou’s eye and he can’t help but choke on a laugh by how messy it is.

“You’re gonna make us late for our own party,” Rintarou chastises with a playful lilt.

“Nah, you’ll fix it in like two seconds.” Osamu nudges Rintarou back and slides off the counter, moving to wrap around Rintarou’s middle from behind and hook his chin over Rintarou’s shoulder.

Rintarou presses into Osamu while he reaches for a makeup wipe, deftly swiping it across the ruined eyeliner and removing all traces of red from his eye. The canvas becomes blank again as Rintarou picks up the brush and drags it through the pot of crimson red. One hand sinks into the spaces between Osamu’s fingers where they rest against his stomach; the other lifts to his eye and easily drags out a straight line. The red spills onto pale skin like a river of blood. Rintarou hums as the line pulls into a wing, feeling Osamu’s lips press against the back of his neck. Then Rintarou moves back, swooping out a second wing curving just below the first wing to create two tails. While filling in the gaps, a deep set feeling of content washes over Rintarou. Complete comfort fills him in the way one feels at home. Perhaps that had to do with the fact that Rintarou felt more at home with Osamu than anyone else or anywhere else. The second Rintarou sets down the brush Osamu yanks Rintarou around until they’re facing each other. He’s trapped their intertwined left hands between their chests and Rintarou leans into Osamu; his free hand pushes through Osamu’s fringe fondly.

“Still amazes me how good you are at that,” Osamu comments between chaste kisses to Rintarou’s cheeks and nose.

“It’s all practice. Same way I got good at blocking and you got good at cookin’.”

“Let me be impressed with m’boyfriend,” Osamu whines, surging forward to capture Rintarou’s lips with his own.

Rintarou happily responds to the kiss, lips parting to allow Osamu’s tongue to dip into his mouth. It’s languid and indulgent. While Osamu cradles the back of Rintarou’s head, their mouths slot together just right. Rintarou’s heart pumps in his chest, slowly becoming wrapped in everything Miya Osamu. Rintarou melts. It didn’t matter that sometimes Rintarou felt like him and Osamu were living in two different worlds of entirely different hues. Even if they were colored diametrically opposed by the artist of the universe. It never mattered. It didn’t make any difference to Rintarou. Their colors would blend together. In moments like these his entire essence would meld with Osamu’s and it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It was the most beautiful he ever felt. Every time left Rintarou feeling vibrant and new. It left Rintarou feeling _right._

“Wait,” Rintarou mumbles into Osamu’s mouth, pulling back with an incredulous look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

Osamu rolls his eyes, pulling their tangled hands up to his mouth. He places a barely there kiss on Rintarou's knuckles, looking him in the eyes as a dopey grin pulls on his lips. Rintarou watches with intrigue at the display but says nothing, only gazing at supple lips making contact with the silver band wrapping around Rintarou’s fourth finger.

“Fiancé. It’s hard t’be used to it when we haven’t told anyone yet,” Osamu corrects himself. He places another kiss to the back of Rintarou’s hand then releases it.

Rintarou shakes his head, but there’s a glimmer of a smile resting in his eyes while he exits the bathroom, Osamu hot on his tail. “Good thing we’re telling everyone tonight then, hm?”

Osamu and Rintarou situate themselves in the genkan, donning dress shoes and coats. Rintarou glances in the small mirror by the door and fixes the part of his hair with deft fingers. He catches a glimpse of the ring in the mirror and smiles inwardly.

“Next time I’m doing your eyeliner and maybe we’ll make wherever we’re going _on time._ ”

“Always gotta do everything don’tcha, Seaweed? My eyeliner, propose,” Osamu drones with a teasing lilt.

“Did ya know Atsumu was convinced he was gonna get engaged to Sakusa and Kita-san before we got engaged? He said I was jealous of him. I was already wearin’ the ring around my neck by then,” Rintarou explains, standing up just the slightest bit straighter. When the bit of the Kansai-ben slips into Rintarou’s speech Osamu can’t help but feel warm. Rintarou instantly senses the smug pride echoing off of Osamu. He turns to meet Osamu’s eyes and pulls him in by the lapel of his coat.

“I love you, Rin.”

“I love you too, ‘Samu.”

Rintarou leaves a chaste kiss on Osamu’s lips, relishing in just being in Osamu’s space. He pulls back almost as quickly as he leaned in. Osamu raises a finger to lightly tap against the tip of Rintarou’s nose and Rintarou moves to bite at it, earning a laugh and a faux dirty look from Osamu. Rintarou jerks his head in the direction of the door and Osamu opens it to lead them out.

 _Yeah,_ Rintarou thinks. _This feels right._

**Author's Note:**

> hang out with me and talk all things haikyuu on twitter @matsucockwa


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